


you're trying, and that's enough

by asexualrey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, space family moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualrey/pseuds/asexualrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro's sick, but there's no rest for space dads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're trying, and that's enough

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am here to bring the voltron sickfic

Shiro, in general, really, really loves his role in Team Voltron. He knows he’s meant for it, and while it’s not always an easy burden to carry—on the contrary, sometimes he feels like he’s wilting under the pressure of protecting the entire galaxy—he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Today, though…he’s seriously reconsidering. 

He woke up with a splitting headache and a sore throat and really wants nothing more than to stay in bed and sleep. But, unfortunately, he has four teenagers to wrangle and two aliens to discuss the safety of the universe with. Today they’re running a supply mission to a nearby planet that’s offering their resources as an outpost, and if he doesn’t oversee things, he’s sure nothing will get done right since Allura is handling all the diplomacy with the king of whatever alien species populates this particular world.

When he looks in the bathroom mirror, he knows it’s going to be a long day. His color is all off and his eyes look kind of dead. Eyes are the windows to the soul, they say. But he’s used to trucking through these kinds of things. It’s an unfortunate time to get sick, but he can handle it. At breakfast he makes some herbal tea and takes some Altean medicine—he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to help with, but it’s better than nothing. He puts on a well-practiced, composed face and greets his team with a smile when they file into the kitchen one by one, and none of them suspect a thing. 

If Lance and Keith don’t stop going at it, though, his composure might crumble quicker than he wants. It’s not doing any favors for his headache. 

“So then I told him, ‘ _Why don’t you come over here and make me?_ ’” Lance smirks and puts another spoonful of goo into his mouth.

“I hope you got punched in the face,” Keith says calmly.

“I’ll punch you in the face!”

“You couldn’t if you tried.”

“Wanna bet, pretty boy? I’ll take you on any time!”

“I’m free this afternoon.”

“Oh, this I gotta see,” Pidge says.

“Yeah.” Hunk points with his spoon. “My money’s on Keith.”

Lance gives an offended squeak. “ _Hunk!_ ” Keith laughs in satisfaction and Lance’s head whips toward him. “I’m gonna throttle you!”

“Yeah, sure. I hope you fight better than you fly.”

Lance’s face turns boiling red and he grits his teeth so hard it’s surprising there isn’t smoke coming from his ears. He stands quickly, chair scraping across the floor. “Oh, you w—”

Shiro groans loudly and presses his palms into his eyes. “Would you please _knock it off_?” he practically shouts, despite the way it tears at his throat. He considers himself a patient man, but there are some things he just can’t put up with for very long. 

The group seems stunned into silence by his outburst. When he looks up, everyone is staring at him. He scowls. “We’ve got important work to get done today and it’ll be easier on everybody if you quit arguing for five seconds and actually do what you’re supposed to do. I don’t want this to take longer than it needs to.” He’s acutely aware of how grumpy he sounds, and maybe the scolding is a bit out of his character, but he really can’t bring himself to care. He’s exhausted, his head hurts like a bitch, and he can feel a fever coming on. Definitely not ideal conditions for field work. If he can speed the process along faster, all the better.

“Are you okay, Shiro?” Pidge asks after they’ve all been staring for a solid three ticks. 

“I’m fine. I just don’t want to put up with your nonsense today.”

“Sorry,” Lance says, bringing his cup to his mouth. “Jeez.”

He’s vaguely aware of Keith and Pidge continuing to stare at him when Allura and Coran join them at the table and begin laying out the plan for the day, but he ignores them and breathes steadily in through his nose and out through his mouth. It’s only a few hours of work. He can do this.

—

It only takes an hour before he’s thinking he might have to rescind that statement. They’re out in the sun hauling boxes on strange wagons and then transferring them by hand onto the castleship, and it’s taking a greater toll on him than he predicted. His head is pounding steadily, sharp pain thrumming behind his eyes, and his throat feels completely raw. It’s like fire every time he swallows. A cough has started up, and he definitely has a fever now because despite toiling beneath the planet’s bright, hot sun, there are chills raking up and down his back and his muscles feel achy and weak. Sweat plasters his shirt to his back and his hair to his head, and when churning nausea is added to the mix, he can’t really think of more miserable conditions. 

Okay, maybe he can, but this is not far behind. 

He’s pushing his fifth cart up a hill when he feels a numb, tingling sensation start in his flesh hand. He pants for breath and shakes his head to clear out the fuzzy feeling, but that only makes it worse and now he’s starting to see stars. _Quiznak_ , this isn’t good.

“Hey, Shiro!”

He can’t stop himself from groaning at the sound of Lance’s voice coming up behind him. He likes the guy, but sometimes his voice can be really grating.

“So, like, how much longer are we gonna do this? How many supplies do we even need?”

“Ask Coran and Allura,” Shiro manages. 

Lance comes up beside him with his cart. “I can’t find them anywhere.” 

“I don’t know, Lance.” He’s starting to get alarmingly breathless and sudden hot flashes seem to be sapping whatever strength is left in his limbs. 

“Well, between you and me,” Lance says, leaning in to stage-whisper conspiratorially. “I don’t think Keith’s pulling his weight. I’ve seen him move maybe two wagons.”

Shiro can’t answer. He’s too focused on keeping the cart moving and not falling flat on his face. He pulls in ragged breath after ragged breath, puts one foot in front of the other, tries to still his shaking arms and legs. If he can…just get to the air conditioned hangar and sit for a few moments…

“I mean, even _Pidge_ has moved more than him. I’d keep an eye on him if I were you.”

Drops of sweat roll down his face. The scenery blurs before his eyes and his legs tremble uncontrollably beneath him. 

“—ance, stop accusing people.” Is that Pidge? When did they get there?

“You don’t even know wh—” That sounds like Keith. 

Shiro thinks he hears Hunk’s voice somewhere in the mix, too, but everything is becoming a jumbled roar in his head.

He doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until there’s a voice right in his ear. “—iro? What’s wrong?”

He’s gasping, clinging to the handle of the cart with a sweat-slicked palm to stay upright. This was a horrible, terrible idea. A violent coughing fit seizes him and he groans at the pain in his throat. 

He feels his knees hit the earth and there are hands on his back and voices shouting at him, but he can’t hear what they’re saying and he can’t answer because he can’t stop _coughing_. Everything is spinning, there’s a loud ringing in his ears drowning out everything else, and there are sparks of white exploding before his eyes and taking his vision. 

He can’t pinpoint the moment he passes out. 

—

When he wakes, he feels like he’s been run over by a horde of Galra. He aches all over and his throat is parched. There’s a cold cloth draped over his eyes. For a few long moments, he just lies there and gathers his strength. He reaches up to remove the cloth just as a fit of coughing starts up.

Someone hauls him into a sitting position and rubs his back until it passes. Shiro is left gasping and rubbing at his stinging throat.

“Are you okay, Shiro?”

When he looks up, Hunk is staring at him with wide, worried eyes. 

“Y-yeah.” Wow, his voice sounds bad. 

Hunk sighs in relief and passes him a glass of water. “Oh man, you had everybody panicking back there.”

He winces when he swallows. “Wha…what happened?”

“I was gonna ask you that. You just collapsed halfway to the castle and Pidge said you had a really high fever. Did—did you know you were sick?”

Shiro lies back down and lifts a hand to his aching head. “Uh, yeah. But I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

Hunk frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I—I don’t know, I—”

The door slides open. Shiro hears a cacophony of voices in the hall that’s suddenly cut off with a harsh, “ _Shh!_ ”

And then the remaining three paladins tiptoe into the room, looking for all the world like they’re trying to sneak past something horrible, like a Galra soldier. Shiro smiles wearily and lifts his hand. “Hey, guys.”

“Shiro!”

Pidge and Lance’s faces light up and even Keith smiles a little when they see him. Shiro suddenly finds his bed crowded with eager-faced teenagers, but this time he isn’t irritated. He’s just…tired.

“How are you feeling?”

“Man, you look rough.”

“Why didn’t you tell anybody you were sick?!”

Hunk finally intercedes. “Guys, give him a little space.”

All three shrink back a little, subdued for the time being. 

“How are you feeling?” This is from Pidge. They lean forward, eyes shining with concern behind their glasses.

Shiro tries to keep up a smile, but he can’t put his heart in it. “I’m…um.” He coughs into his fist, harshly and wetly. There’s no point in trying to save face now. “I’ve been better.”

Pidge’s worried frown stays firmly in place. “I need a list of your symptoms.”

He hates doing this. He hates openly discussing his plight in front of everyone. But Pidge looks urgent and intent, and it’s probably not a bad idea to be open about it at this point. So he rattles off his discomforts, one by one. The headache, the sore throat, the muscle aches, the lingering nausea. Everyone looks vaguely panicked thehe finishes. 

“You were out working like that?” Lance balks. 

“Sounds like the flu,” Pidge says. “You need to stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids.”

Of course, Shiro knows this. He’s a grown man. But he still feels incredibly sheepish. “I’m sorry for worrying you all.”

“Worrying us?” Keith snaps. “You just all of a sudden pass out during a job with nearly a 104 fever and all you can say is you’re sorry for _worrying_ us?”

Pidge places a hand on his arm. “Keith, let him talk.”

Shiro sighs. “I know I should’ve said something earlier, but I—I thought it was just a cold or something. We had work to do, and I h…have to look out for you guys. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Shiro. Sheesh.” Lance scratches the back of his head like he always does when he’s feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not sure why anyone’s surprised here. You’ve always been the ‘suffer in silence’ type.”

Hunk hums in agreement, and Shiro gives him a grateful smile. “Well. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Just…tell us next time you’re not feeling well, okay?” Pidge says.

“Yeah.” A thought occurs to him, then, and a ball of anxiety begins to grow in his stomach when he remembers the job he’s supposed to be doing right now. “How’s it going with the rest of the supplies?”

“God, do you ever think about anything else?”

“Shut up, Lance.” Pidge adjusts their glasses. “We have a few more things to pack up. Allura wants us to come meet more of the locals and Coran wants our help with some cleaning, but after that we should be ready to leave. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

“I call being in charge!” Lance shouts. 

Shiro winces as the loud noise sends a spike of pain through his head. “Ugh, Lance…”

The boy has the tact to look genuinely sorry. “Oops. Sorry.” And then in a loud whisper, he repeats, “I call being in charge.”

“You don’t get to _call_ being in charge,” Keith deadpans. 

“Uh, I just did.”

“Hunk is in charge,” Shiro says. “No arguing.”

Hunk’s face assumes a serious expression and he raises his right hand to his brow in a salute. “You can count on me, Shiro.”

Lance pouts. “Whaaaat?”

When Keith starts laughing at him, Pidge and Hunk begin to herd them out of the room. 

“We’ll be back to check on you soon,” Pidge says. 

Shiro shimmies up onto his elbows, ignoring the protests of his aching body. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without me there?”

“I think we can handle ourselves for another hour.” They roll their eyes. 

“Yeah, and I’ll keep an eye on Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” Hunk says. Out in the hallway, he can hear both Keith and Lance give offended squawks. 

Shiro chuckles. “You’ll come get me if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunk waves his hand through the air. “We’ve got this, Shiro. You just focus on getting better.”

His confidence begins to ease the knot in Shiro’s gut. He exhales slowly, and for the first time since that morning he begins to feel like he’s relaxing. “Okay.”

“Here.” Pidge fishes something out of their pocket and places it on the bedside table. It’s a small electronic device he’s seen Coran use before. “It’s a comm link. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to radio me. And the same will go for us.”

Shiro nods and finally lowers himself back onto the mattress. “That’s…that’s a good idea.”

“Do you need anything before we go?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay. Thanks, guys.”

Pidge grins. “No problem. Take it easy, Shiro.”

“Feel better soon!” 

The door shuts gently, and Shiro’s head drops heavily onto his pillow. He still feels awful, but it’s a thousand times more bearable with his team around for support. He doesn’t have any faith that they’ll actually finish this job without any problems, but just knowing that they’re trying, for his sake, is enough. 


End file.
